


Pretty Crime

by decayinghorizon



Series: The Sharpest Lives [4]
Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Grand Theft Auto Setting, Fake AH Crew, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-26
Updated: 2016-05-25
Packaged: 2018-07-10 06:48:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6970627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/decayinghorizon/pseuds/decayinghorizon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They all say, "those girls are poison."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Pretty Crime

**Author's Note:**

> I'm not sure yet whether Mica and Lindsay are going to be included in this fic or in another strictly AH one with Jeremy and the B-team, but I do want to include some more girls, so two chapters.

She was unexpected. A former journalist, she once took on every story she could about the underworld that permeated the city, researched and reported on nearly every crime that came through, fascination growing until she realized that she didn’t want to report crimes nearly as much as she wanted to commit them. A pretty, petite girl with a background in modeling and a red lipsticked smile that could get her into or out of any situation she wanted, Dollface sweet talked her way to notoriety, twirling knives and breaking hearts. Best known for robbing banks in frilled dresses and high heels, manicured finger quick on the trigger, fully grown men cowered in fear of her, knowing what she was capable of.  
Because of her famous face, she was caught the most often, but was always perfectly made up for her mugshots, not a hair out of place, smirking because she knew she’d walk free before she ever saw the inside of a cell.With her golden boy and the vagabond on her side, no one could touch her.

An assassin wearing false eyelashes and a falser persona, she was never one to be underestimated. The doll with a gun, she struck fast and they fell hard, their blood the same color as her perfect Hollywood curls.

A bombshell blonde, tall and proud, wearing heels that could easily crush bone, she found fun in the crime, the manipulation. She could elicit information from anyone quickly and painlessly (for her), a natural gift for communication, the right words forming in her brain and leaving her lips without ever having to try; top secret files in her manicured hands before the clients ever knew what they’d done. Secretly ruthless, she was best at destroying organizations from the inside out, speaking to corporate higher ups about snitches and spies in their ranks, earnest wide eyes conveying her concern.  
They only realized after their businesses were run into the ground that they’d never seen her before in their lives. 

She got men to sign contracts in their own blood and their life savings over to her, sell their souls to crime lords, spinning lies that sounded like promises, like opportunity, like all their dreams come true. She traded contracts and powerful phone numbers like baseball cards, but never touched a pen to paper herself, never signed a single loop that made up her name, because she knew the cost, the deception, every clause written with barbs meant to ensnare. She didn’t carry weapons, never got her hands dirty, sticky situations quickly cleaned up with simple solutions, workplace accidents; a trash can up in flames or a hand in a paper shredder. She would walk away with her head held high on stilettos sharp as knives, a smile on her face and ink still wet on a fresh contract.

She was known as Belladonna, deadly nightshade. With midnight black hair and a blacker heart, she loved the thrill of the chase, playing with her targets before she brought them to their knees, watched them bleed. She had purple-painted fingernails that shone black in the moonlight, looked more like claws, sharp enough to be deadly. She jumped fences and sprinted through the night, too fast to catch but not fast enough to fall, cutting escape routes through the city she prowled, always stalking her prey, waiting for them to drop their guard, weak to the illusion of safety. 

Some called her a ghost, quiet and pale, an invisible force haunting the psyche of anyone who did her wrong. She was sleepless nights and a dangerous walk home, flawless cat eyes following you from the shadows, deep burgundy lipstick calling to you from the darkness. A vanishing act you could never quite shake, a fear you’d never overcome. She was a poison no one ever recovered from, the silent killer. 

Best friends, they were day and night, polar opposites that made up a whole vicious girl. When faced with a target that refused to talk, Blawndee asked the questions and Belladonna brought her blades, and by the end of it, their victims were begging to let them spill their guts. 

They called her Jinx because like a bad omen, people dropped dead wherever she went. She was petite but deceptively strong, with a stud through her nose and long blonde curls that radiated innocence, harmlessness. A fast-talker with a mean streak, she killed the competition before they could even pose a threat, washed the blood from her hands, then seamlessly twisted the truth to suit her, giving police statements and batting her eyelashes, shedding tears for the camera but turning away with a smirk. She worked for the local news station, always scoping out headlines, which crimes made the cut, editing teleprompter scripts to omit the details she’d rather not reveal, hunting down the witnesses she ensured would never speak again. 

She and Dollface often worked together, an airtight alliance of ex-reporters, always in the know. The delicate pretty girls out for blood, trading lives for information, they were deceptively smart and that’s just the way they liked it. Years in the news business had taught them how to cover up crimes so they never made it to TV, how to spin lies, twist words in a way people like to hear, destroy all evidence and burn bodies and leave cold trails, how to be the criminals that never made mistakes, how to never end up in handcuffs.


End file.
